


Will you ever love me?

by GottaLovePetyr



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-06-09 10:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6902290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GottaLovePetyr/pseuds/GottaLovePetyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sat back in his chair and rested his head against the cushion. She was not Cat, and never would be! But there was something intriguing about the girl and every time he was alone with her,he couldn’t help but relive his obsession. He mustn’t get carried away, but he would tutor her. He would show her how to survive, he would do that for Cat! Sometimes it was almost too easy to see her as his own daughter and it all seemed perfect, just for a time.</p><p>And then, he remembered a kiss, which lasted even less than a heartbeat but which left him breathless, more than any number of Cat’s kisses had done, or even Sansa’s for that matter (though he was the one who had started those). He smiled, a rare one that made his eyes crinkle, and started to wonder when exactly he had fallen in love with the brown-eyed girl. With her, it always felt like home - not Riverrun, never the Fingers, but the feeling when things fell into place, a satisfaction that even he couldn’t explain. And Petyr wasn’t one to falter for words. She was the only home he knew now, the only one worth it all..</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first time writing,so there's bound to be loads of mistakes :D Though I'm a Petyr/Sansa shipper, I love the character Petyr Baelish more than I should. I hate it that Petyr doesn't have anyone falling for him, he deserves at least that much for the hellish childhood he had. So here's my amateur attempt at just that :) Hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you hated and loved and whether I should continue this story in the comments section! :D Thanks :)
> 
> <>

The small boy dipped the wash cloth into the bucket, wrung as much water out of the cloth as his tiny hands were able, and started slowly scrubbing the floor of the courtyard. Somewhere above him a songbird was humming a tune. He tried to hum along as softly as he could; the castle was still sound asleep. His efforts were wasted though for there was a yell from above and the boy looked up just in time to see the bird promptly flying away.

Gods forbid, you open your lordly eyes sooner than you are wont, he muttered under his breath, glaring at the open window. And us? We have to scrub and clean and wash, and then scrub and clean some more. He threw the cloth into the bucket splashing water all around him . No! I won’t scrub out that stain, I don’t want to! Why don’t your pretty dresses or your shoes scrub it out themselves, he almost cried out. A few moments later though,the boy wiped his tear-streaked face, took the cloth out of the bucket and set out to clean the rest of the floor. Resigning himself to his fate and blinking back a few tears, he went on to dream of a life away from all this, filled with the tunes of the little song bird, all the while cursing the Lord who had scared it away.

 

Inside the room above, the Lord tossed and turned in his bed, but soon gave up. That wretched thing had forced him to rise earlier than he had wanted. He moaned into the sheets, he hated starting the day groggy!

Although he prided himself his ability to sleep fewer hours than most, he insisted on having a restful sleep, devoid of any kind of disturbance whatsoever! If only I could keep them all out, he thought wistfully. Then gradually, as his brain started to clear up, certain memories started flooding in, wrenching his eyes wide open in horror and he promptly started banging his head down on the bed.

Once,not so long ago, in his obsession for restful evenings, he had acquired a special lock from Braavos - a pair of metal cylinders, one of them with 5 wheels of numbers, that could be placed on either side of the door and connected by a hair-thin metal wire. The very first night, he rolled the wheels into the lock combination and enjoyed his work and sleep without a single interruption and in the morning, he took it off of the door. Servants refrained from even walking past his door whenever the metal tube was in the lock. So for a long time, Petyr Baelish enjoyed his evenings in peace and quiet...till, of course that fateful morning when he left it on the door.

To this day no one exactly knows what led to Baelish being locked in his chambers. Everyone naturally blamed it on some ’dark magic’ that was put on the lock- how foolish of the Master of Coin to actually own something so ’dangerous’. The lord knew what they were saying about him but he was more concerned about _who_ had tampered with his lock, not a what. Varys wouldn’t do something so foolish - yes, he could have been ’grievously’ injured but that was hardly useful. No, it had to have been someone else. Baelish, however, was blissfully unaware of a pair of eyes watching him wherever he went, or atleast wherever a cleaner girl could go unnoticed. She had taken it upon herself to be his guardian angel since the incident, simply because she was cripplingly guilty.

You see, this poor little cleaner girl had been newly assigned to Lord Baelish’s room that morning and she was ecstatic. She was strangely fond of the little lord and in an attempt to please him, had diligently wiped down the locks. The next evening she watched in horror as the men burned down the entire door to enter the room. Lord Baelish had been forced to leave his chambers earlier by the window after shouting himself hoarse for help; he hadn’t looked too happy puffing and heaving, holding onto the ledges for dear life! Fond or not, she couldn’t help finding it funny. Days later she still burst into giggles when she thought about it.

He was alive wasn’t he, why the fuss about one burned door, she thought. But then it was _her_ fault! At once, the laughter died in her throat. If anyone found out.. no, no, they wouldn’t.. But what if they did?? She started worrying the inside of her mouth, glancing about her nervously, half expecting someone to pounce on her from behind the pillars and drag her to the chopping block. Don’t be silly, no one saw anything. But poor Lord Baelish, she strangely felt responsible for his humiliation; everyone was laughing about Lord Baelish’s ’escape’. And she liked him, he was never unkind to her. She knew what some Lords did with girls, even those as young as her. But Lord Baelish never so much as glanced at her when he would pass her in the halls. Once he even gave her a slice of his apple when he saw her crying behind a pillar. Her mother told her that he was no real Lord and that he didn’t belong to any house. Maybe that was why he was kind to her. Suddenly she felt a rush of guilt and sympathy for the Lord from the Fingers, and vowed that she would make up for what she had put him through.

Ever since then, Lord Baelish had a little girl tailing him, and he hadn’t the slightest clue. However, he had other things to occupy his mind. For one, what had gone wrong? He couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what had happened. He had gone to bed pleased with himself as usual and had woken up stuck inside his chambers and forced to climb out of his window, in a doublet! That wretched thing almost killed him. Though he had reached the small council meeting without a single hair out of place, the news of the trapped Lord had spread like wildfire, and led to one of the most uncomfortable meetings Petyr had to sit through. Burn and bleed in all seven hells, the lot of you! You try stretching and swinging your legs over ledges in one of these!!

After that thoroughly embarrassing ordeal, Petyr vowed no more _unbreakable_ locks (and also to rethink tailoring his clothes too tightly)! He sadly had to resign to trust the servants not to disturb him. He still cringed remembering the eunuch’s grin.

”Next time I hear that blasted thing,I’ll wring its neck till its eyes burst out of its head!!! ”, he slurred out. That bird had crossed a dangerous line that morning.

Growling, he made his way to his wardrobe to look as presentable as he could, despite his head threatening to crack.He gazed at his reflection in the looking glass - tousled hair, bloodshot eyes and a face that literally looked in desperate need of ironing. Yet, he just smirked to himself. The lion had finally grabbed the rose, all because of him and it wouldn’t be too long before his plans for the little wolf would be set in motion.

Oh, how he loved this! Carefully weaving, twisting and snipping each of those threads that created his wonderful masterpiece, leaving not a single lose end, tying them enough to hold the others in place and finally, letting them all fall only to reveal the final play within it all! Yes, Baelish was a master weaver, unbeknownst to all - and that, naturally made it all the more fun! Who would suspect anything from the ever-genial Master of Coin!

That morning he chose to wear his ever-loved emerald green doublet, the golden threads chasing each other through the intricate dark embroidery, leaving the robe with a dull green glow. It always reminded him of that day - the sun beams winked through the leaves of the trees while the children played in its green light - she had been Jenny, with flowers in her hair and he had been her Prince of Dragonflies.

As he stared at his refection in the looking glass, he could almost smell the flowers in Cat’s lovely hair. His heart had almost burst with joy that day watching her; he never believed he could be happier! No, he thought, that was in another lifetime, that Petyr Baelish had died a long time ago. He closed his eyes and let his mind play out the duel once more as he had done a million times before and turned his heart to stone. He never stopped loving Cat, but he had stopped being that boy. He wouldn’t be so foolish again. As he opened his eyes, he thought of another red-headed girl and smiled. Well, he may not be that boy any longer, but could always get Cat again, even lovelier than she once was. She was the most important piece after all, for now.

He went over to his desk and set to complete letters, balance columns and whatever other work lay unfinished. He cleared what had to be cleared, burnt what had to be burnt and waited with ravenous hunger to break his fast. Never again would he forget to shut the blasted windows! Finally, having done with his breakfast (almost knocking down the serving girl in his haste to grab the breakfast tray) and with one last look around his chambers, Petyr opened his doors to walk out into, what he hoped, wouldn’t be too demanding a day. For the first time in a long while, he wished night would come sooner.

 

*****

 

Petyr watched the boy king pace around the room frantically. Sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder if the sadistic thing really was insane.

”But _I’m_ the king”,he stomped furiously on the ground. Petyr caught Varys’s eye and the two men grimaced; the meeting was no doubt heading into boredom. These were the times Petyr had wished someone would just come and kill the boy and get it over with. He was heading for it anyway, the idiot that was Joffrey Baratheon.

”Your Grace, you cannot go about beheading all those who displease you” came the exasperated drawl from the king’s grandfather.

”Dis-DISPLEASE??? THEY THREW STUFF AT ME! I’m not _displeased_ Grandfather, I’m FURIOUS! The war’s over, we’ve won and these people need to be put back in their places. Things can go back to the way they were! ”

”If by _that_ you mean punishing people then, Your Grace, you’re a shoe in for ’Next Head on Spike’.”

Tywin intervened before Joffrey could say another word,”Your Uncle is right, albeit a little indelicate.” , he said through gritted teeth glaring at his son. He turned to his grandson, ”You need the people’s love Your Grace, Lady Margery will be of much use in that. She is well loved by them all, it appears”.

”Let her have their love. What am _I_ supposed to do with _love_?? What I need is..is”, the boy hadn't a clue. Then something his father had said popped into his head and he drew himself up to his full height, ready to deliver a line he was sure would make them all sit up in their seats and take him seriously for once, make them see him as King. ”What I need is _loyalty_ ”

”And naturally, one of the steps to go about winning said loyalty is to go on a killing spree. Do you know what Joffrey? This time, when they tear down the doors during the riot(which is sure to happen _again_ thanks to you), they might just succeed in killing us all!”

”Tyrion”, came the warning from his father.

Joffrey squirmed and fidgeted where he stood, scowling at his Uncle, knowing he was right. He swatted away his mother’s hand that had reached out to comfort him, Cersei glared at her brother.

”How dare you speak to the King that way!”

”Why, I am but a concerned Uncle advising his nephew. But, do you think I am wrong, sweet sister?”

Petyr groaned inwardly. Sometimes he wondered why Varys, Pycelle and himself were even called for these meetings, they were just glorified family arguments, which would have been worth listening to if they had any information drop out from time to time.

Blocking out the noise, he let his eyes scan the table. The lions were squabling, Pycelle was snoring and Varys had a far-away look in his eyes. Petyr could feel the sleep tugging at his eyelids and was starting to struggle to keep them open when -

”For heavens’ sake!”

Pycelle and Petyr were jolted awake and all eyes except the Lannisters’, looked towards the closed doors. Petyr noticed them turning to each other.

”They know who I am, I do NOT need you to _announce_ it. Now kindly move Ser and let me through. I want to see my family!”

They could hear the sound of a man’s soft chuckle before the chamber doors opened and a young woman bounded through.

He watched her face break into a smile and all at once Petyr’s mind travelled to a day under the trees. _Petyr Baelish, what in seven hells is the matter with you? Get a hold of that head of yours! Come nightfall, you’re barring those windows and marching straight to your bed chambers. The Master of Coin must sleep!_

He was wrenched out of his ruminations just then by a squeal, and in a swoosh of skirts Cersei and the girl were caught in a tight embrace. And then it began- Am I really that exhausted or can this be really happening??, Petyr wondered. The contents of his stomach were churning around and he was beginning to feel sick. She was pulling everyone into her arms! Petyr closed his eyes, disgusted at the displays of affection. He had to force his eyes open when he heard a dying mouse, but then it was just Varys laughing.

As he watched, it occurred to Petyr why he found the scene so strange. This particular bunch of Lannisters was not very close, save Cersei with her son. What was strange was that they finally looked like a family, with this girl.. who is she anyway? She even got Tywin to.. what was that, was that supposed to be a smile? He had never seen the man’s face stretch that far beyond the perpetual grimace.

Petyr tried to appear bored and unconcerned, but it was difficult keeping a straight face when he so desperately wanted to know who the mystery girl was, his mind was racing. He hated being in the dark! _Patience!_ , he reminded himself and was just about to relax when he suddenly felt his jaw start to clench. It was then that Petyr realised, to his horror, that his mouth had been wide open the entire time!

He feigned a yawn and hoped no one had seen. The ’family’ and Pycelle were too busy with themselves. He was more concerned about another pair of eyes and to his disgust found them staring right at him, his blush-ridden cheeks so high that his eyes were reduced to slits. And there was that giggle! It took every inch of Petyr’s control to not jump out of his seat and lunge at the eunuch, wrap his hands around his pale neck, choke him till his giggles turned to squeals of pain and his face turned blue. Instead, he contented himself with his imaginings, all the while staring at Varys enough to make any other man squirm. And Varys continued to smile back. Petyr cocked his head to the side and started to wonder which of his veins would bulge with the pressure and had to stop himself from smiling. Varys’s smile faltered for just a second and he glided away to talk to the girl.

_Wait! The girl.._

He had heard only choice whispers from a few during the days he had first arrived in King’s Landing. It was her! The girl had been sent to the Citadel when she grew older, she had apparently _wanted_ to learn. No chains though, he smirked to himself.

Just then the girl’s eyes found his and she started to make her way towards him along the right side of the table. ”Please forgive my manners my lord, I hadn’t seen you”

Petyr rose from his seat with an extra flourish,”No need for apologies Lady Ayra, I am Petyr Baelish, Master of Cuuhh..uh Coin”. What now! He tried to move his right arm, but it wouldn’t budge! In his obvious attempts to impress, he had succeeded in getting a stray thread from his right sleeve get snagged on a nail along the edge of the table. The thread was half-way up his arm, near his elbow so you can very well imagine the scene; no, he couldn’t have looked more awkward.

So here’s what ran through the man’s head, in that fraction of a second that he stood mind you, and realised that he was about to embarrass himself yet again. Petyr had to choose - yank sleeve away and fill the room with the cringe-worthy music of expensive cloth getting ripped _(It’s not fair!this is one of my favourites!!)_ , not to mention the muffled giggles wherever he went because this was sure to make its rounds about the castle _(Gods!)_. Or remain crooked and bent like a hunchback and pray desperately that she would come around to his left. Petyr’s mind was a whirl of thoughts - Yes, yes the second one! isn’t too far-fetched..is it? I-don’t-care, I’m not having another Coin story. Ha, the idiots thought they were clever did they, calling it that. The coin story about Littlefinger, oh just hil _aaa_ rious, just.. Ahhh!!! she’s coming... At least stand up straight you idiot!

He started running his left palm along the front of his doublet, as though he was smoothing it down. He counted the seconds...

She made to stand to his left ( _Thank the Gods!_  He never thought he particularly warranted their attention) and placed her hand in his right one. He didn’t have to bend, the nail had done that much! He gave her hand a quick peck and was more than certain that he had pulled something in his back. But before he had to force himself straight and sit back down, she had already started talking.

”I hope I hadn’t interrupted anything”, she smiled at everyone, knowing fully well that she had. Petyr turned to look at her and found her standing very close to him, while his left hand was furiously working under the table to release the right with no success. He groaned, here comes another Coin story.

”Well, we were just advising your cousin on how best to rule, and he may just be learning something, aren’t you your Grace?”, Tyrion turned to look at Joffrey. ”You can’t talk to me like I’m stupid! Mother! He can’t talk to me like that !”. Cersei said something back, Petyr was too busy with freeing himself to care. Words were being tossed back and forth like knives and soon enough brother and sister started bickering, with Joffrey jumping excitedly between the two of them. Good Good, pay no attention to the man struggling to keep his reputation intact, Petyr thought desperately.

Amidst all of that, what went on beneath the table went unnoticed. Petyr felt small fingers pry away his left hand and carefully break the thread, releasing the captive sleeve, unscathed. When he looked to her she was already making her way towards Joffrey.

By now Cersei and Tyrion had resorted to glaring at one another, having been silenced by their father, but Joffrey hadn’t stopped his complaining. Petyr watched the girl and Tywin share a look, and at once she slipped her arm through Joffrey’s. ”Cousin, how horrid you are! Why won’t you show your big sister around your realm, and you can tell me all about how useless they all are and how their lives are worth nothing.”

Joffrey looked from her to Tywin, who simply said ”You needn’t worry Your Grace, everything will be taken care of, but with your safety in mind of course.”

”So, their heads..” ”No beheadings, your Grace”. he almost growled. But Joffrey wasn’t having it.

”Your Grace, smart kings let the council handle affairs such as these. You needn’t waste your time, there’ll be far more important matters for you to attend to.”, said Lady Ayra smiling sweetly at the boy.

”They do??”

”Ofcourse they do! Would I lie to you Joff?”

Joffrey was still hesitant, although the relief on his face was plain. ”Alright then, come along with me my lady” and with one last look at Tywin he dragged her out of the room.

She turned around at the door and gave everyone a devilish grin, her eyes resting on Petyr for a second longer than the rest, before Joffrey’s tugging made her stumble out of the room.

The rest of the meeting was uneventful and before he knew it he was on his way to oversee matters at his various establishments.

He wondered how Ros was faring with the latest arrivals. The new ones were always the hardest, with all the crying and the whimpering. He hadn’t forced any of them to work there, they were their by choice. He refused to feel anything, it would only make it harder. Frankly, he really didn’t care. As he stepped into his office, he glanced at his sleeve and started to wonder if he should bother rearranging any threads to fit in the last Reyne. He would have to look into that more closely.


	2. Chapter 2

Petyr wanted to maul his own eyes out, it couldn't possibly hurt more than this pathetic display.

"I'm curious, what part of 'seduce him' did you think meant skinning Olyvar with your nails? Just stop..STOP!",Petyr said disgusted. Then he shouted at the door, "And to those of you standing outside-GET BACK TO WORK, NOW!!!". They could hear sounds of shoving, muffled shrieks and then silence. 

The young boy (now lying on the floor, exhausted) had begun his act of seduction brimming with confidence; he was sure to impress the brothel-keeper in the first few minutes. After 15 minutes, however, he heard the sound of quill scratching parchment and almost fell off of Olyvar in his shock. In a last ditch effort, he decided to go all into the 'throws of passion', which for him translated to screaming,biting and scratching. Hearing the pained screeches from within Lord Baelish's office led to a small crowd forming outside the door. Petyr's yell, however, left them scampering for their lives.

"Your handsome face might be your only saving grace. Watch Olyvar, listen and do whatever he tells you and you just might survive. I'll give you an hour to better whatever you just did. You're working this afternoon. Now leave!"

Unfortunately for Petyr, the boy had other plans. To his horror, the boy jumped on top of him in his happiness (and nakedness), lathering, and ruining in the process, Petyr's prized doublet with whatever fluids were still left on his body. 

And it was right then that Petyr Baelish was beginning to fathom the possibility that the Universe was out to get him, well at least his doublet anyway. 

He tried gripping the boy's arms to push him off, but his fingers merely slipped over the glistening skin and he only succeeded in pushing himself further into the boy, who mistook that for an affectionate patting down, and so hugged him even more furiously than before, almost suffocating the older man. Petyr's nose had somehow found its way into the boy's armpit and he almost fainted with the stink filling his senses. But he willed himself not to give into the darkness. Oh yes, make no mistake dear reader, Petyr was a fighter! He screamed!!!

Now Olyvar, meanwhile, was desperately trying to pull the boy off of his master, but the sweat was winning! Finally hearing the strangled cry from Petyr, the boy leapt off his new master. Seeing the look on Olyvar's face and the now sputtering and heaving Lord Baelish, he started to wonder whether he may have been entirely wrong in his reading of what had just transpired. But one look from Petyr, and he wanted to die right then and there. He really couldn't have run faster out of the room. Except that he slipped at the door in his attempt to escape, and managed to crawl out, still naked, with whatever clothing he could grab in his haste. Olyvar ran to shut the door and rushed back to check on his master.

"My lord, are you alright? Would you like me to fetch the maester..?" He was silenced with a hand.

 "Not..a word of this..leaves.....or.. I'll ..skin you...MYSELF!", he managed to croak through ragged breaths.

"Of course my lord. The boy, Cedric, he seemed desperate to work. And you have to agree, it's hard to find raven-haired boys with green eyes.", Olyvar was apologetic.

Petyr didn't care, let them all hang! His favourite doublet was ruined! What the blasted nail couldn't do, the idiot boy finished!

"Just keep an eye on him... The rest of them, on the morrow."

"My lord, your doublet can be cleaned off..Let me.."

"OLYVAR!"

"Leaving my lord!", and he rushed out leaving Petyr with all the wonderful smells in the room. The day could not get any worse.

He stripped himself, walked to the basin, and dumped a batch of scented oils into the water. Scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub.. what was that boy made of, the smell just wasn't leaving him. But then he realised in horror that it wasn't leaving his nose.

By the time he was done, the glass bottles were empty and from all the incense he had lit, he could hardly see a thing. Petyr was exhausted. After changing into his second doublet of the day, he opened his windows and let the fresh air chase the stench out of the room. He sighed.

He let his eyes move down to the courtyard and found just the relaxation he needed. He wasn't very fond of children, but these were no ordinary little things playing there. No, these were the fruits of carefully careless encounters with just the right Lords. Petyr was always in control of whatever happened within the walls of his brothels, exercising the utmost caution and discretion so that his patrons could indulge in their guilty pleasures with abandon. But could he really help it if mistakes happened? He couldn't control their fates..or could he? Petyr did always prefer to be in control,   _whatever_ happened.He wasn't very fond of surprises.

Just from where he was, he could see the resemblance of many a wealthy Lord on those angelic faces. Oh yes, angelic! They were his guardian angels, with them in his possession, he had more than half of the Royalty of King's Landing in the palm of his hands. Standing there, with remnants of Cedric still lingering in his nostrils, he just couldn't see how people felt his job was demeaning! Petyr knew what he wanted, and he knew how to get it. It would just be a matter of time.

Just then he heard a woman's laugh and turned to find Lady Ayra surrounded by a gaggle of giggling children, all desperately trying to hug her.

Of course, where would you be but surrounded by children. Have you met Margery? he scowled. They would be the best of friends, sharing their tales of their benevolence. How pointless!! What a waste of precious time! What was happening to the world! 

The group made its way up the road. Ayra lifted her eyes up and found Petyr watching her. She smiled and waved, he inclined his head in response and watched the group disappear around the bend. He wondered if Joffrey knew what his dearest cousin was upto.

He cast a longing glance at the ruined doublet tossed in the corner and went back to his desk.

 

*****

 

He watched Cedric at work with his customer. He had to admit, the boy was getting better. Later, when Olyvar brought the boy to see Petyr, he was trembling. As well he should for what he did to my doublet! But Petyr just smirked at Cedric.

"Keep at what you did just now and you will bring in twice of what you brought in today. But, and listen very carefully boy, if you try to touch me again... well, one of our patrons has asked for an amputee and I may be looking at just the right one", he grinned menacingly over his parchment at the quivering boy.

Cedric dropped to his knees, "P-p-lease forgive me..My apologies m-m'Lord, I was just relieved and grateful to you m-m'Lord, a-am grateful for giving me this chance to prove m-myself ", he stammered out."Y-your doublet m'lord, I'll wash it out for you, please I'll make it as good as new.."

"Leave before I re-consider", and the boy ran.

"I like him."

Olyvar raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"How are the rest of the new stock faring?"

"As well as can be expected my Lord, although the tiny blonde one is promising."

"I trust you know what to do with him then Olyvar. I'll be back in a day or two." He made his way to the front door, all the while taking note of who was working and who wasn't. He noticed Cedric lounging on one of the chaises in the front room who sat up at once on seeing Baelish.

At the door, he turned to Olyvar to ask after Ros's latest acquisitions, failing to notice her rushing in from the outside and straight into Petyr, smashing into the side of his face. For a second Petyr heard nothing above the ringing in his ears, but gradually started to hear the repeated apologies and his eyes adjusted to see a tangle of red curls stuffed into his face. But above all else, he was more acutely aware of his neck being yanked repeatedly. When he looked down beyond the curls he found Ros furiously trying to free her necklace from his mockingbird pin. For just a second Petyr closed his eyes and let them pull and tug at his collar, he could feel Olyvar's hands struggling at his neck too. He refused to believe that he would lose another doublet the same day and almost laughed at the thought. Still smiling he pushed away the hands working at his collar and tried to free himself on his own. Seeing their master's smile only made Ros and Olyvar all the more terrified and they stood quietly watching him. 

 

Olyvar hoped against hope that the cloth wouldn't rip, he didn't think his master had the patience for another ruined doublet; he wasn't having the best day. He watched the older man work at his collar and could see desperation peek through his usually composed features. There was never a moment when Petyr Baelish was not resplendent in his many doublets, he took special care in his appearance,even in the brothel. Despite his age, he was an attractive man. When he had first started working here, Olyvar found this man an enigma, he was unphased by both men and women. He never knew that love could really exercise such control. Even after being in his service for so long, Olyvar couldn't say that he knew his master very well. But he did know never to get on his bad side. 

Now as he watched the man before him, he wondered who was Petyr Baelish really? Unfortunately, he was snapped out of his reverie by the appearance of a frantic Cedric bounding towards them. Ohhhh dear,it _was_ going to get worse.

Ros stood quietly watching Petyr, she had long before taken off the necklace when Petyr's tugging had started to choke her; she couldn't help but feel that her master's pulling wasn't entirely unintentional. Oh Gods, what was she going to say when he asked her why she wasn't inside in the first place! She resisted the urge to flee and moved closer to Olyvar. Why was Lord Baelish still smiling? She groaned, nothing good was going to come of this. Then she spotted Cedric - she had wet herself laughing at Olyvar's tale of Cedric's displays of affection. But right now, with Lord Baelish making _that_ face... oh, maybe Lord Baelish would forget about her once he started to strangle Cedric. Ooohh, this might be good after all.

 

Still confident of saving his doublet, though his patience was waning, Petyr managed to unhook the metal wire of the necklace and finally freed himself. But he still hadn't moved the necklace away from his neck continued to clutch it to his collar.

He was just about to shout out his victory when a new pair of hands yanked the pin from his collar. The sound of cloth ripping filled his ears but louder than that was the strangled cry that came from his own mouth. Petyr rounded on the owner of the hands and found himself staring into a pair of petrified green eyes. From somewhere far away, he could here something telling him to relax, it wouldn't do to lose your temper now. He took a deep breath and steadied his voice,"You idiot, are you out to destroy all of my clothes?" 

"I-I thought m'Lord wanted help..I was trying to help.." 

" _Did I ask you for help???_ " his voice went dangerously low.

From behind Petyr, Olyvar gave Cedric a warning glare. Taking the cue, Cedric vigourously shook his head,saying nothing.

"Next time, and with you around there's sure to be one, _do not_ help me! Even if you think I'm dying!", his words were a menacing whisper that no other than the three people standing around Petyr could hear. Of course, no one in their right minds would stand around to watch Lord Baelish threaten someone, so there really wasn't anyone else in the room, save the four of them.

Petyr unpinned his cape and made to drape it over his ruined collar. Ros came forward to pin it for him, but shrank back at the murderous look he gave her. Without another glance, he walked out into the afternoon sun, now a little more than concerned for what else was in store for him. He turned his head and found himself staring at a concerned Lady Ayra with the children playing around her. He groaned inwardly, how loud exactly had he shrieked. He scolded himself for losing his patience like that for a piece of cloth, albeit an extremely expensive one. He disliked losing money.

Lady Ayra smiled and he returned the gesture and walked on. As he had expected she fell in beside him. Why was this girl always around when his clothes were getting destroyed!

"Do you mind if I walk back to the castle with you Lord Baelish?"

He shook his head but said nothing. They walked for some time in silence.

"I think I understand why you do this", she pointed behind her, "It's an extremely lucrative business isn't it?"

Petyr smirked.

"Though I do not agree on making profit from one's unfortunate circumstance, your employees are working there, off their own accord. So they know exactly what they're getting themselves into. It's sad though isn't it, to think that they believe this is their only option. and it sometimes is."

"And it sometimes isn't?"

She turned to look at Petyr , "Selling one's body for money should never be an option, in my opinion. But if it wasn't, then your business would never do well, and that would be bad for you." Turning away from him to the cobbled streets ahead she said, "I can't fault you for their choices, however demeaning or disgusting the work you do is. In fact, I think you are one of the bravest and incredibly foolish men to do something like this."

"Care to elaborate your _thinly veiled_ insult my Lady?" She had stopped walking to watch the ships. Petyr watched her, she wasn't very beautiful but there was something about her. She turned her brown eyes and looked straight at him.

"Foolish because you're carelessly marring your reputation just to fill your pockets. Brave because you care nothing for what others say or think of you and would do whatever it was to get what you wanted. And I forgot to mention clever for getting every Lord eating out of the palm of your hands."

"I see you've been talking to Varys."

She grinned, "I was curious, you seem a very interesting man."

"And what did Lord Varys have to say to that?", he smirked.

"Well, he unsuccessfully tried to convince me that you were a dangerous man."

"Don't you believe the man then?"

"Of course I do, did I say that I didn't my Lord?"

"Then why was he unsuccessful?"

"Why am I still talking to you Lord Baelish?"

"Well, forgive me for saying this my lady, but it could be because you are a foolish woman who, I wager genuinely believes that she has the ability to make men fall for her charms. While I agree that you are an intelligent young lady, you should be clever enough to know that you are wasting your time."

She laughed, "What makes you think I want you to fall for me? Lord Baelish, you are definitely an attractive man (despite your age) but you are thoroughly mistaken. I told you, I just find you interesting."

Petyr's smile faltered for just a fraction of a second, and went on to give a sweeping bow. "What would my lady have this interesting man do?"

"Talk to me."

When he could no longer hide his confusion, she smiled. "Lord Baelish, you are an exceedingly clever man. And save the few men in my family, such men are rare to come by. My lord, do not be a stranger when you pass me in the halls or anywhere else. I would very much enjoy spending time with you."

"And what exactly do you want to talk about?" , he was liking this girl less and less.

"Oh, so very many things my Lord."

He didn't like that at all. "You know, though I wouldn't say this often, you should listen to Varys, he knows what he's talking about."

"Wonderful! I'll let him know you said so." And she started walking away. Just when Petyr started to follow her, she turned around.

"And Lord Baelish, I know you won't kill me off just yet. You know who I am,I might be of some use to you, or don't you think so? Oh, so many many things to talk about!"

And with one last smile she turned, eyes still on him and failed to see a couple walking past her at that same instant. The two ladies ended up in a tangle of limbs and fabric. Ayra burst out laughing, so much that even the red-faced Lady had to smile. Petyr was thankful he wasn't a lady, getting out through the window with this much cloth would only mean death. Heand the Lord helped disentangle the women, with Ayra spurting out profuse apologies through her laughing fit. Petyr had to smile. She held onto him to steady herself while she caught her breath and looked up at him.

"You should do this more often", she placed a finger at the edge of his mouth. "You look nice when you're happy."

She was much too close for Petyr's liking and when she touched him, he froze. But he couldn't help enjoying the sweet scents that were trying to push through his nostrils, that were sadly still filled with Cedric. He abruptly let go of her, and she stepped away from him.

"You needn't worry my lady, besides happiness is not what I want."

"I hope you will be", she said smiling sadly.

This time she looked away and walked towards the castle. Petyr had literally grown up on sympathy and was sick of it, but the look she gave him was far from it. He stared after her, not entirely sure of what had just happened. He then slowly started to make his way back to his chambers, all the while trying to shake out those brown eyes from his head.


End file.
